


breathe smoke into my veins

by civillove



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1343011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon prompted: 'more badboy Blaine please?'<br/>Continuation of my drabble prompt called 'Bad Boy' in my seblaine drabble prompts from tumblr series. But can be read separately. Warning for shotgunning, also Klaine friendship (if you can call it that).</p>
            </blockquote>





	breathe smoke into my veins

Blaine really wasn’t used to anything that wasn’t fast paced. He didn’t do things that took a lot of time, getting drunk or high or going to a party, driving too fast, relationships (if you could call them that) were based on how long it took a person to get undressed and into his bed.

He didn’t like slow. Because slow usually meant boring.

Until he met Sebastian Smythe.

The kid was new. And he was shy. And he had legs that stretched on forever and he was convinced that he’d eventually ( _eventually_ ) get those long legs to wrap around his waist. Ever since he had cleaned him up from a slushie thanks to the school’s ‘most likely to lose brain cells by walking’ brigade, they had grown closer.

Or well, closer as in Blaine wouldn’t leave him alone—but semantics.

He can tell he’s starting to wear down Sebastian’s walls, he’s helped him out in more ways than one as he settles into a new school. He doesn’t dare call them friends but he’s working towards it so he can build up to more.

And while he doesn’t like slow, he _does_ enjoy a challenge. Getting Sebastian into his bed seems to be just that. So he teases him, makes him blush and smile, tries to get him to feel comfortable enough around him to let him in.

Because once Blaine gets past Sebastian’s barriers he can literally see the finish line, long naked limbs wrapped up in his sheets.

He stubs out his cigarette as Kurt walks into the bathroom, scrunching his nose at the smell and waving his hand in front of his face. “That’s a disgusting habit.”

Blaine ticks his tongue off the roof of his mouth and throws the butt through the small window that you have to stand on a toilet to open. He jumps down and joins Hummel in front of the mirror, tugging at the bottom of his shirt with a shit eating grin.

“So is wearing too much sequin, but you don’t hear me tell _you_ that.”

Kurt swats his hand away and glares, fixes his shirt and straightens his back like he’s trying to make himself taller. Blaine may be short but the day that Kurt presents himself as _taller_ to him is the day he starts going back to class.

Kurt, out of everyone in school, is actually someone he can manage talking to without wanting to blow his brains out all over the pale cream colored hospital looking walls of the classrooms. He’s got this…sassy _rapport_ with him that digs under his skin. Kurt is interesting, Kurt doesn’t take crap from anyone and he’s hell-bent on being himself, which is hard to do in a high school setting where everyone would rather be a cookie cutter copy.

He likes that.

“You’re never going to make headway with Sebastian if you get kicked out of school.” Kurt leans towards the mirror, fixes his hair. “Smoke outside.”

Blaine leans his hip against the sink, adjusts his black jeans before tugging his simple white t-shirt down, his maroon cardigan sort of smells like an ashtray and a mixture of cologne but he hadn’t had time to do laundry this weekend.

“Who says I want Sebastian.”

Kurt laughs, gives Blaine a withering look. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Anderson. Sebastian is new, he’s shiny and without a doubt has no idea of your reputation that seems to repel half of the school.” Blaine rolls his eyes. “Of course you want him.”

Blaine’s about had it up to the ceiling with the gossip train around here, it’s not like he cares about his reputation but if he cares about _anything_ it’s the fact that most of whispered talk and glances center around his family and poor upbringing. About how his father is dead and his mother is a drunk and that Cooper is the only good thing he’s got and he lives in L.A. There’s rumors about how Blaine’s been in juvie, that he’s punched a guy so hard at a party that he’s sent him to the hospital, about how his brain is soaked in alcohol and cigarette smoke (and that’s at least partly true) and that he chews people up and spits them out like stale gum.

“He’s a challenge, I like challenges. You won’t sleep with me,” He smiles, inches closer so that Kurt can feel the heat of his body. “So I have to find someone who will.” He whispers, breath hot and ghosting over the other’s ear.

And while Kurt’s a lot of things, it’s so obvious how sexually deprived he is that it almost makes Blaine feel sorry for him. Almost.

Kurt seems to realize that he’s lost an inch of his resolve because he steps back and huffs, looking at him like he’s some sort of parasite.

“I have _standards_.” 

Blaine snorts and then grins. “Yeah, me too.”

“I’m talking about real standards, Blaine. Something that’s not so low you can step over it.”

He sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets, turns around to look at himself in the mirror, his hair is slightly curlier than he would have liked but the guy’s house that he had slept in last night didn’t own a single shred of gel. A lot of people have told him that they like tugging on his curls anyways and that gel usually makes it more difficult.

And Blaine _aims_ to please.

“I’ll get him where I want him, I just need some time.”

“The great Blaine Anderson can’t get someone into bed with him with the snap of his fingers.” Kurt rolls his eyes, he almost sounds jealous. “How hard for you.”

The bell echoes in the hallway for the changing of class and Blaine winks at Kurt before turning to leave. “It’s easier than having my legs glued shut.” He says pointedly and yanks open the bathroom door to head down the hall.

000

Blaine leans against Sebastian’s locker, smiling as he sees the other come out of French class down the hall and walk towards him. His entire figure is like a tall and cool glass of water and he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about what he’d look like with his clothes off. All hard lines and soft muscles, freckles on bits of skin he can’t see but wants to taste with his tongue.

He’s never been patient. But he’s willing to be to get what he wants.

“You weren’t in class.” Sebastian says as he slides up next to him. Blaine breathes in and picks up hints of Sebastian’s cologne, skin and coffee.

“It’s really adorable that you were looking for me.” He smiles and the taller rolls his eyes. He doesn’t blush as easily as he had when they first met. Blaine’s wearing him down, Sebastian is getting used to him and his advances.

“Where were you?”

Blaine licks his lips, turns his head to watch people walk past them. Berry scrunches her nose in disgust as she passes him in the hall and he whistles at her knee highs enough to make her scoff but blush nonetheless.

“I had better things to do. I have an A in French.” Sebastian looks at him skeptically and Blaine catches it before smiling with a shrug to his shoulder. “Or I would if I bothered to show up.”

“Vous êtes ridicule (You’re ridiculous).” Sebastian mutters under his breath, sticking a book into his bag.

It’s perfect French, like it’s not foreign to his tongue and Blaine wonders where exactly Sebastian transferred from. He should probably ask at some point.

“And you’re not going to last period,” Blaine says, leaning closer. “J'ai quelque chose de mieux que vous pouvez faire avec votre langue (I have something better you can do with your tongue).”

Sebastian’s eyes widen and Blaine smirks at the familiar brick red color that stains his cheeks.

“Skip class with me.”

The taller falters a moment, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he glances around at other students and teachers passing them in the hall. There are eyes on them, Blaine knows this, the infamous Blaine Anderson trying to hook in another poor, innocent boy.

He never understands how it _always_ ends up being his fault. It takes two to tango, to have sex, to misbehave and to ruin one’s self image by being around him. Girls and guys say yes to him, and if anyone asks him, that’s _their_ mistake. Not his.

“I can’t I have Biology.”

Blaine watches him close his locker, adjust his shoulder strap of his bag. He’s hesitating because he knows he wants Blaine to convince him to stay. To give him a reason.

“I’ll teach you all you need to know about pheromones, chemical reactions and anatomy.” He grins, eyes sparkling.

Sebastian smiles softly, dips his head before shaking it. “Does anyone ever say no to you?”

“Not usually.” Kurt so does _not_ count.

“Where…would we go?” He asks, Blaine’s hand wrapping around his wrist to tug him in the direction of the gym. His thumb traces circles around the tree of veins on the underside of his arm, can feel the upbeat of his heartrate. He’s not sure if that’s from his touch or because they’re sneaking out of school.

“Bleachers; the degenerates who usually hang out down there won’t give us any trouble don’t worry.”

He leads him through the gym, to the backdoor that leads outside to the track and football field, the door that’s always unlocked because the gym teacher is fucking lazy and can’t find his own dick let alone the keys that lock up the place.

He doesn’t look at Sebastian until they’ve made it safely underneath the bleachers, smiling as some stoners whistle at the newcomer. He takes him to a secluded part on the far end, so people don’t bother them and lets his wrist go—he misses the warmth underneath his fingertips. Sebastian shivers as wind whips under the metal frames and Blaine leans back against the fence that separates the parking lot from the bleachers.

“You cold?”

Sebastian shakes his head before looking around, scrunching his nose at his surroundings. It’s not as dirty as it is down by where the entrance to the school is, ironically, where most of the people tend to conjugate. It’s a combination of leaves, missing balls from baseball or soccer practice and a few cigarette wrappers where they’re standing.

“I know it’s not the Ritz around here but nothing’s going to jump out and bite you, relax.” Blaine takes a cigarette out of his back pocket, Sebastian’s eyes following his movements as he fishes the lighter out of his cardigan.

He smirks as he sets the canister in his mouth, hanging between his lips, bright green following the way his thumb snaps the top of the lighter and creates shadows on his face as he lights his cigarette.

“You smoke?”

Sebastian shakes his head. “No, it’s habit forming.”

Blaine shrugs, takes a long drag, lets it fill up and burn all the way down to his toes before he lets it out slowly. “So are a lot of things.” He licks his lips. “Have you ever tried it?”

He leans against the fence, their shoulders nearly touch. “No.”

There’s a curiosity in Sebastian’s eyes though, his fingers are twitching against his thighs as he rests his palms flat on his legs. Blaine doesn’t need to be told that Sebastian’s gay because he can tell. Or he’s at least stuck in something that fascinates, confuses and allures him all the same time. His eyes linger on Blaine’s lips as he speaks, he stands too close when they talk and he used to blush this bright pink that probably covers his chest too when he hits on him.

He doesn’t know much about him, never makes it his business to get to know people as well as he probably should for what they end up always doing with one another. But he likes being able to disconnect, to distance himself. That way people don’t get hurt. Including himself.

Blaine knows he transferred from a prep school with a fancy name because sometimes Sebastian shows up to school in sweatshirts that say DALTON across his chest. If that’s not the name of a pansy rich school with too much money to spend on their sweatshirts and acappella club he’s not sure what is. When he first started hanging around Sebastian he was worried that he was younger than he seemed.

_“You’re not a freshman are you?” He had asked; because while Sebastian was a fine piece of ass he was not interested in robbing any cradles._

_“Do I look like a freshman?” Sebastian threw right back, smiling a little at the corners of his mouth._

Blaine still remembers that smile, it visits him sometimes at night when he stares at his ceiling trying to fall asleep. It turns out Sebastian’s a junior just like he is, or well, might remain to be if he doesn’t start showing up to some of his classes to pass.

He smirks and leans up off the fence, sitting down on the concrete and crossing his legs at his ankles, the heels of his boots digging into some leaves. Sebastian follows suit, the warmth of his body igniting his entire left side.

“Today’s weather makes me miss my old school.” Sebastian says, and Blaine glances over at him. He’s never known someone to start diving into their life without his permission or even a question asked. Except for Kurt, Kurt does that all the fucking time because he likes talking about himself.

But Sebastian is conversational, like he’s talking to a friend. And something hits warmly at the bottom of his sternum because, he realizes, Sebastian trusts him. Even just a little. At a new school filled with people, out of everyone he’s talked to Blaine has turned into someone that he actually cares to be honest with.

And he’s not sure how he feels about that.

“Fall?” He asks.

“Hmm,” Sebastian says, pulls his sleeves over his hands. “They used to have bonfires at the beginning of October, that sort of thing.”

It sounds fucking ridiculous, like a summer camp with too many Kumbayas, a bunch of prep school boys hugging one another and talking about their feelings. But it matters to Sebastian and any snappy thing he wants to say sort of just fades away into the air like smoke.

“I like bonfires.” He says instead and leaves it at that.

Blaine can feel him staring at him as he takes drags, his thumb flicking the top of his cigarette to knock some ash to the side, away from the dry leaves. Sebastian has these lips made to wrap around things; straws, bottles, cigarettes, _cock,_ his body aches with wanting to see him smoke, to take the wisps of feathery gray into his mouth, his lips forming a perfect ‘O’ as he lets it out slowly.

“You want to try it?”

Sebastian avoids the question. “People talk a lot about you, you know.” Blaine rolls his eyes, adjusts his back against the fence, lets the cigarette hang in his mouth as he draws his cardigan tighter around his chest. “How much of what they say is true?”

He laughs, his hazel eyes glittering deviously as he looks at Sebastian. He wants to count the freckles on his cheekbones and then kiss every one of them. “Oh, _everything_ they say is true. Except for the stuff that isn’t.” _None of your fucking business._

The taller rubs the back of his neck, he’s nervous. “Right.”

A moment passes before Blaine bumps shoulders with him, squeezes his one hand in a tight fist to resist running his hand over Sebastian’s forearm, wrap his fingers through his. “You’re safe with me,” He says, serious, because some of those rumors are bad fucking news and the last thing he wants to do is scare him away.

He doesn’t know what convinces Sebastian except for the fact that he does, and the taller’s shoulders untense, his eyes still lingering on that cigarette.

“Try it.”

It’s not a question this time but Sebastian shakes his head, laughs softly, the sound light and hitting something directly in Blaine’s chest that he can’t name.

“Uh, no, thanks.”

“Afraid you might like it?” He smiles slowly, rubs his thumb over the top of the canister where his mouth goes.

“I won’t.” Sebastian says simply, like it’s just that. Simple.

Blaine knows how to make simple things very complicated. “I bet I can get you to like it.” He says carefully, every sound calculated and precise on every syllable.

Sebastian bites his lower lip, swallows, their faces much closer together than he realizes. Blaine wants to reach out with his lips and taste his skin. But he’s patient and brings the cigarette into his mouth again instead.

“Have you ever shotgunned before?” The smoke snakes out between his lips and teeth as he speaks, Sebastian coughs. The way he doesn’t reply tells Blaine a lot more than the other probably realizes. “It’s easy. I take smoke in and then blow it into your mouth.”

Sebastian may be shy but Blaine can read him like an open book, like the words are printed on his skin. While Sebastian’s curious about who he is or who he pretends to be, Blaine knows that this boy isn’t innocent. He’s done things before, he doesn’t squirm under their proximity—at least not out of nervousness, maybe for a different reason.

 “Unless you’re worried you won’t be able to do it.” He challenges, switches gears.

Determination lights in Sebastian’s eyes, his jaw ticks. “It’s not the first time I’ve wrapped my lips around something.”

Blaine chuckles. He _likes_ that he’s not a blushing virgin, like Kurt; Blaine can press Sebastian’s buttons and Sebastian pushes right back.

He turns towards him, crosses his legs, the fabric of his jeans pulling against the muscles of his thighs and resting comfortably against his cock—the pressure just enough to elicit little pulses of pleasure into his bloodstream.

“Ready?”

Sebastian mirrors his body and nods, his fingers squeezing his kneecaps as he rests the palms of his hands over them. He waits for the other’s body to relax before placing one of his hands on Sebastian’s wrists, running his fingers over his skin, soothing his quickening pulse. He tugs him a bit closer so that their knees knock together, bringing the cigarette into his mouth to take a long drag.

The smoke ignites the branches of his lungs, tucks into places that make him feel filled up, whole, his eyes fluttering shut a moment before he hooks his finger under Sebastian’s chin and tilts his head. Their lips brush, gentle at first, making sure that he’s not going to push him away as they touch. When he’s satisfied with their proximity, he presses their lips together. Sebastian’s mouth opens and Blaine breathes out the spoke, tongue licking at his lower lip.

The taller jerks back suddenly, a round of coughs stuttering his long frame. He smirks and places a hand on his back.

“You’re alright, breathe through it.”

“Feels like my lungs are burning.” Sebastian winces, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“That’s the idea, handsome.” Blaine hums, flicking the ash to his side. “It gets better after the second or third hit, I promise. Instead of trying to suck it into your lungs like a straw, just breathe, nice and easy.”

He licks his lips, tastes coffee on his tongue from Sebastian’s kiss, wants to delve into that deeper, that sensation he gets from skin on skin and not from the smoke.

“If you’re not comfortable with kissing me, you’re not going to be able to shotgun.” Blaine admits, lets his hand rest on his thigh. “We could always practice.” He winks.

“Who says I’m not comfortable kissing you.” Sebastian points out, a fraction of a second for him to react before he hooks his hand around the back of his neck and slams their lips together.

A soft noise escapes between them before Blaine relaxes into it, he’s conscious about the hand that has the cigarette, the other working it’s way around Sebastian’s back, drawing him into his lap as he leans up into the kiss. He groans softly, his tongue sliding into his mouth, tasting hints of smoke and coffee and mint—it’s dizzying, it fills up his head, makes his knees weak and his stomach drop.

Sebastian’s long legs are settling, haphazardly, a messy combination of limbs, around his waist. Their laps meet and a gasp leaves the taller’s mouth as they press close enough together so that their cocks mismatch but touch nonetheless.

Blaine pulls back, panting, his teeth nipping at Sebastian’s lower lip.

“Again.” Sebastian says, his voice scratchy.

He doesn’t have to tell Blaine twice. He takes a drag, a little bit of smoke escaping his mouth as he holds it in his lungs for a few moments before encouraging Sebastian closer. The taller takes the initiative, is calculated when their lips join and Blaine waits a fraction of a moment longer before he blows slowly, lets the smoke flow into Sebastian’s mouth.

It’s easier this time, Sebastian’s lungs don’t reject it.  His entire body seems to rock into the sensation of breathing in the smoke and Blaine groans softly as their cocks slide together, even through the fabric and material he can feel the outline of Sebastian’s hardening cock. The cigarette is getting low, it has maybe, one more decent hit left and he hands it to the other, licks his lips and jerks his hips up.

“Suck on it.” He says lowly, hands spreading on top of Sebastian’s thighs and tracing the inseam with his thumbs.

His heartbeat is in his ears as Sebastian wraps his lips around the canister, his eyes fluttering closed and his head tilting back a little as he takes the final hit, the way he’s reacting to gathering the smoke into his lungs—it’s nearly fucking _sinful_. His cock throbs with wanting to take this to a different level, he’s willing to undress right there and go as far as Sebastian’s willing to go. But he has to bide his time, has to make it all worth it.

And _seeing_ the fucking euphoric look on Sebastian’s face before he dips forward and blows the smoke into his mouth is almost just as good.

Blaine takes it easily, sucks black into his lungs, feels the hit fizzle through his bloodstream as they continue to kiss, allowing Sebastian to rut himself against his own cock even though he knows they can’t possibly finish here.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” Blaine mutters, cups Sebastian’s face, traces his thumb over his cheekbone before dropping to press into his lower lip.

And Sebastian’s grin is damn near cheeky, like he’s breaking out of the shell he’s been forced to live in. “Yeah,” He smirks, “I know.”

000

They finish up around five minutes after the final bell rings and class empties out. There’s eyes on them as they walk through the parking lot, as Blaine hands Sebastian his satchel, taking a few minutes to talk amongst themselves before he agrees to walk the taller to his car. He can tell that people are gossiping about them, whispering as they pass. Kurt’s right; Blaine has a reputation regardless whether or not most of it’s not true.

There are people waiting for Sebastian around his car, jocks, some have cups filled with slushies, others just look ready and itching to start a fight. Blaine shakes his head, locks his hand around Sebastian’s arm until he stops.

“Come on, let’s just head to my car.”

Sebastian frowns, glances at own and hesitates, like he’s not sure whether he wants to endure what’s waiting for him or just leave his car behind.

“You’re choosing a side, Sebastian,” Amizo warns him. “You know what happens when you roll around with trash.”

Blaine grins, sticks his hands in his pockets, the words bouncing right off his skin. “Did you get that analogy from your sister?”

Amizo reaches for him but another football player steps in front, puts a hand on his chest to stop him. He stares daggers into Amizo, taunts him with his eyes to come and get him. Sebastian shifts at his side, he’s nervous again and Blaine motions for them to start heading to his car.

“No one is even going to want to _look_ at you after you fool around with this one, Sebastian, you’ll be no better than a walking STD at this school.”

He has no idea what crawls under his skin with that comment but an anger that’s never really touched Blaine before festers hotly in his belly and he whirls back, fist up and punches Amizo square in the fucking nose. The football player scrambles, swears loudly and Blaine’s fist throbs as he bows lightly, mocking him, before backing up and leaving.

If Sebastian is following him he’s not sure, he doesn’t care. He just wants to get to his goddamn car and go home. He’s confused, that’s the emotion he recognizes beyond being pissed off. He’s always been pretty good at not letting people get to him. People talk shit about him all the time, what’s he going to do? Go home and cry about it?

Regardless if he has a reaction or not to any of it, people will still talk like their lives depend on gossip from one mouth breeder to the next. So he’s always allowed comments to roll off his back, not burrow into his pores.

And he’s not sure whether what bothers him more; the fact that it was about Sebastian or because he’s just had enough with Amizo’s shit.

Blaine jerks Sebastian’s hand off his shoulder as he gets to his car and the taller takes a step back. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“You think I did that for you?” He snaps, opens up his car door, throws his satchel inside and slams it closed again. He’s aware that he’s only being an asshole because Sebastian’s right. He _had_ done that for him and he doesn’t know what it means.

So he takes a few bricks and starts cementing walls around him.

Blaine lets out a slow breath, runs his hands through his curls, glances around at the few people milling around the parking lot—obviously hoping to see more of a show than they did at Sebastian’s car. When Sebastian takes a step forward and picks up his hand he doesn’t brush him off, his touch sending little electric flares waving throughout his body.

“Your knuckles are bruised.”

“That’s because I was hitting a head filled with lead.”

Sebastian smirks, runs his thumb over them gently. “People are probably going to be talking about this, you know.”

Blaine snorts, looks down at their hands. “I don’t give a shit what people think about me.”

A beat passes before Sebastian looks at him. “You care what _I_ think about you.”

He swallows, tearing his gaze away from Sebastian before he clears his throat and stands up from leaning against his car, letting their hands drop between them. Phantom touches on his skin from Sebastian’s fingers burrow like heat in his pores.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” He says, motions to the car before getting into the driver’s seat. He brushes trash off the passenger seat, a mixture of cigarette wrappers and coffee cups before starting the car.

Blaine doesn’t pay close attention to the way Sebastian leans back against the leather of the seat, smiling softly before reaching forward to play with the button of the radio, how he can smell his cologne and how it fills up the space of the car in a matter of minutes.

And he sure as hell doesn’t linger on the fact that Sebastian might be right.


End file.
